Vignettes From What Could Not Be
by rambling raconteur
Summary: A series of vignettes documenting the relationship Lassiet that was chosen not to happen. ; ; Your suggestions become a part of the story! psych, lassiet, no shules/carlowe (AU), suggestions open
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! Thanks for reading. :) I don't own Psych, first off.**

**This is a series of oneshots throughout a Lassiet relationship that never was. Sigh.**

**The first one is stemmed from a recent news story in Frisco about a horrifying plane crash. My condolences go out to the victims and families of the terrible incident.**

* * *

"I _ran_ away."

"You can't blame yourself, O'Hara."

"I ran away when I should have _helped_."

Juliet O'Hara was seated in a hospital bed, dark blonde hair falling out of her updo, wide gray-blue eyes shining bright with tears. She stared earnestly up at her partner, lip trembling. Carlton Lassiter shook his head, returning her gaze seriously.

"You were injured," he insisted gently. "You couldn't have done anything." She listened to him, hand drifting over the stiff bandages wound over her upper left leg. He reached up, brushing the hair out of her face and hovering delicately over butterfly bandages on her forehead. She smiled weakly.

"Carlton Lassiter," she said quietly, reaching to take his hand in hers. "When has a bodily injury ever stopped him?"

"I've never gotten anything this serious," he snapped a bit irritably, squeezing her fingers gently. "And that is beside the point. You're different, you're—"

"Juliet?" the smile turned bitter, voice roughening. "Because I'm Juliet, the junior, young, female, blonde, _incapable_ detective."

"That's not it!"

"Then what is it?" she stared at him disquietingly. "What makes me different?"

Blue eyes met blue and they stayed like that for a while, Carlton searching desperately for words that would make a semblance of sense.

"Because you are Juliet," he finished. "Clever, beautiful, hardworking, brilliant Juliet." And he said this with so much conviction that it surprised even himself. The injured woman's heart warmed, and she resisted the urge to leap up off of the bed and hug him from where he had stopped pacing.

"Is that it?" she asked, starting to believe what he was saying. Carlton, however, seemed to have quickly lost his sudden rush of inspiration and he slumped back in a chair by the bedside.

"Juliet," he used her first name in hopes that it would project some sincerity along with a bit of annoyance. "You were traveling as a _civilian_ on that plane. The plane fell apart, you got a huge gash on your leg and you nearly caught on fire." He glared at her, suddenly irrationally angry at the woman. "Now tell me, what would _you_ say to me if I were in your place?"

"Be sensible," she breathed, not meeting his eyes. "But wouldn't you feel just a bit guilty yourself?" She knew he would grovel much more over something like this.

"O'Hara, that is enough," he snapped, getting to his feet. But Juliet knew Carlton enough to know that he would not leave. His anger was not directed at her.

"You were worried," she ruminated as he began pacing again. He whirled around, placing his hands on the foot of the bed and glaring at her from across the sheets.

"Hell yes I was worried," he growled. "This was on the news all over California! You could have died. This happens too much, O'Hara, Yin, now this-" His hands trembled. She sat up taller, reaching over to take his hands and pull him over to sit on the edge of the bed. They sat like that for a moment, Juliet leaning over to sit against his shoulder, Carlton fighting the urge to turn around and kiss her.

"Yin was police work," she reminded him. "This was by chance."

"Effing chance." he growled, and she chuckled softly.

"Carlton."

"Yes?"

"Tell me something."

Her beautiful blue eyes implored up at the head detective, and he felt that he'd jump off a building for her at that moment. Hell, at any moment nowadays.

"Anything."

"What were you thinking?"

"What?"

He drew back to stare at her in confusion. She shrunk back slightly herself, afraid that she had said something wrong. He snaked an arm over her shoulders reassuringly.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, puzzled, but he shook his head quickly.

"No, no," he pinched the bridge of his nose, fatigued. "There's nothing wrong."

"I meant what were you thinking...when you heard." she felt selfish, looking for somebody's pity. But something niggled at the back of her mind that would not be silenced otherwise.

She studied his careful expression, heart thumping in her chest, sure that he could hear it as loud as she could. He opened his mouth to speak, about to utter a practiced speech, probably something well-rehearsed and with a painfully restrained with a usual air of pompousness when he shook his head and closed it. He looked down at his hands next to his partner's smaller ones, how they seemed to fit into each other as if they were meant to be that way. His mind went far enough to imagine her lips against his, her body warm, moving in time with his, finally-

_Stop it, Lassiter._

He finally spoke.

"I was scared out of my mind," he was completely truthful. "I knew you were more than capable of taking care for yourself but at the same time just having it so unexpected..." _and also maybe because he suddenly seemed to feel a lot more towards her than before..._He clenched his fists tightly, remembering running through the airport crowds, not giving a damn about the security chasing after him, flashing his badge to whoever would get in his way and dropping it somewhere but_ not giving an effing damn._

"It was terrifying," he finished. "I thought you were gone."

And on a singular impulse that Juliet O'Hara would later regret (but much later _not _regret), she leaned forwards, closed her eyes, and found his lips in the darkness.

* * *

_**PLEASE READ!**_

**So I'm probably going to do a Dewey-decimal kind of system. This is oneshot #1, and you are v_ery_ much encouraged to suggest scenarios for the series. If it's between two fics that have already been written, well, hooray decimals!**

**It can also be something that doesn't fit with the storyline/alternate ending. I'll just write that it's an AU. :) Your chance to see anything happen with these two (as long as it makes sense though, please), so start suggesting! Just say it in a review but don't tell the ending. (If you have an ending in mind, PM me!)**

**Just a fun experiment. If nobody suggests the series will just go on as planned. Your words control the story!**

**So...reviews? ^w^**


	2. Chapter 2

**So this was a two-parter...it ends after this, seriously. :)**

* * *

"Juliet!"

And the kiss was broken.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hands clenched in her lap, refusing to turn and meet the stare burning into the back of her head. Carlton whirled around, a thousand profanities sparking on his tongue at the sight of Shawn Spencer staring dumbfoundedly in the doorway.

"Jules, how could you?" he stumbled into the room, grabbing at the nearest wall for support. "I-I thought we were..._together_."

"You lied to me," she spoke, voice rasping. "You lied to me for seven years, Shawn Spencer. It should have been over before it had started."

"J-Jules," he stammered. "Jules, honey, it was a mistake, I love you, you have to forgive me-"

"Shawn, believe me, I wish I could," she breathed, opening her eyes and looking up at the ceiling. Unable to see those brown eyes that were probably now melting with disbelief and hurt. "But I can't."

Carlton wisely kept his silence, only maintaining a steady blue stare at the fake psychic. Shawn was not the type to just give up, however. He made his way around the room to face Juliet.

"Juliet."

"Shawn."

She looked up, eyes clear, jaw set in a familiar, Juliet-esque determination. Her voice barely wavered.

"When I was on that plane," she spoke clearly, quietly, but their surroundings seemed suddenly deadly silent. "And I heard that we were going down, I prepared to die. And I thought of all of the good things that had happened, but also the mistakes that I had made." She took a deep breath. "The good things heavily outweighed the bad in numbers, but one thing remained that was yet to be fixed." She swallowed, meeting Shawn's disbelieving stare. "And for a few hours I thought that it would never be fixed. But now it will, Shawn."

"I have been trying, trying to put these pieces back together for the past few weeks, trying to overlook what had gone wrong," Juliet's gaze was firm, a blue flame. "But it's time to face the music, Shawn. This will not work."

The last four words were uttered with such firm, confident finality that it shattered Spencer's open-mouthed stupor.

"Juliet!" he nearly shouted. "Juliet, you need time to think-you're out of your mind-"

"No!" she stood, slowly advancing, bare feet shuffling across the cold linoleum, limping to compensate for the thick bandages. "_You_ are out of your mind. I have _thought_ and _thought_ about this for days and nights in this hospital bed, I have thought about this for _weeks_ in my own." The man stumbled backwards, eyes wide, and Juliet would have driven him to the wall if the wires taped to her arm hadn't jerked her back, shackling her like a manic, furious guard dog. "I _know_ when I have made my decision, Shawn, and it is that we are _over._"

There was a cold silence, Juliet glaring at Shawn who was backed up against the wall, staring incredulously at the blonde detective.

"Leave."

He appealed at her with a small whimper but she did not waver in her insistence, a finger pointing at the door. He sighed, shoulders hunched, defeated. He closed the door with a soft swish behind him and did not return.

The hand held up started to shake until she was forced to drop it. She turned slowly around, though there was not a single tear in the darkened blue eyes, Carlton could very obviously see that she was shaken. He extended arms, an invitation to an embrace (purely platonic in this moment), but she shook her head apologetically.

"I've had enough of men," she mumbled, a tiny sheepish grin on her face. Carlton snorted, nodding understandingly, but did not back down on his invite.

"As a friend then," he said softly.

She watched him carefully as she limped towards him. Just when she had reached the bed her clubbed leg gave way under her and she gave a gasp, the ground rushing up at her. Carlton leaped forwards, barely catching her under the arms and hauling her back up onto the bed.

"There's a reason there's doctor's orders," he murmured, smiling. She grinned unexpectedly at him, and he started in surprise when she suddenly hugged him tightly, chin resting on his shoulder.

"Thank you." she whispered fiercely. "For not lying."

* * *

_**PLEASE READ AGAIN! (SERIOUSLY, IT'S NOT ABOUT THE SAME THING)**_

**I've set up a Lassiet/Karlton community for the downtrodden shippers. It's here; forum/A-Lassiet-and-Karlton-Forum/136977/ .**

**You know you want to join. Go on. ;) and don't forget to tell others.**

**Anyways, reviews? Suggestions? _SEND THEM IN!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for reviews, and suggest any ideas!**

**This hits the roof of the T rating, so be warned! Nothing explicit, just love close on overdrive. ;) **

* * *

She thought that it couldn't get any worse.

(Karen Vick, that is.)

"_Carlton Lassiter_, you better come back here _right now-"_

_"_Why should I, O'Hara," the tall man strode quickly through the bustling hall of the SBPD headquarters. "What have I done to warrant such behavior from _you_, of all people, my partner and a cop..."

"Your partner, yes, with an obligation to keep you in check!" Juliet jogged expertly in her heels to catch up with his longer legs. Her shoes clacked loudly on the floors, and their voices were at half-shouts, but nobody looked up anymore at the passing parade. A disagreement was due every couple of hours for the past week now since Juliet had returned to the force from the plane crash, some trivial disagreements, but others, like what was being shouted in the corridors, more heated. One would have maybe assumed that it was a fault of a grudge, or something personal happening in one of their lives.

Well, the latter was partly true, as anybody who worked at the Santa Barbara Police department knew that the romantic tension was full to the bursting between the two top detectives of the area.

And again, a less-enlightened soul may have thought that they would have simply accepted their feelings and moved on, maybe indeed starting to date, but again, that was not the case. Karen had addressed the issue early on with a conference to the whole department, reminding them of procedures and protocol appropriate for an efficient police department, including the fact that interoffice relationships were highly discouraged. But, again, everybody knew (except the two themselves, blissfully unaware and basking in their own churning feelings at that moment in time) that the whole charade was very directly aimed towards the detectives.

Not to say at they didn't get the message. This was the main reason that they had let these feelings hopelessly overflow.

Vick was surely kicking herself now. Maybe the two would be more negotiable if they were contentedly in a relationship...?

But, meanwhile...

"O'Hara, don't you dare follow me any further-"

"I have rights!"

"Stalking a police officer is a prime felony!"

"And so is evading a cop!"

"That is enough!"

Carlton had whirled around to shake an angry finger in Juliet's face. But it was Chief Vick that interrupted the chaos. She put her hands on her hips, shaking her head disbelievingly. They appealed to her like children caught fighting over something trivial.

"Lassiter, O'Hara, my office. Now."

As the two followed, hissing malevolent continuations of their debate as they followed the chief, Shawn Spencer looked on, Burton Guster snickering at his side.

"Those two are worse than kindergarteners." Gus grinned, but Shawn only nodded vaguely, face twisted into a bitter frown. His buddy noticed immediately. "Aw Shawn, stop moping."

_"Brooding_ is probably a better word for it," he mumbled, jaw clenched as he watched the unfolding conversation through a window. He flinched at the familiar gaze Juliet was casting in Lassie's direction. He knew that look; admiration, no, _love,_ thinly veiled with a skin of irritation. "Damn it."

"Shawn."

"She's giving him _the look!"_ he mouthed, arms flailing helplessly. "The look meant for _me_!"

"Shawn, would you get over yourself already?" Gus snapped, annoyed as he poured himself some of the station's coffee. "You two are done. Zip. Zilch. Sorry, but it's over." He took a sip of the scalding black liquid, choking disgustedly and setting it back on the table furtively. "Ugh, this stuff is disgusting. You were fine before the plane accident, why are you all worked up now?"

The 'psychic' turned to stare at him. "Dude, are you kidding me? I'm '_all worked up_' becausenow she's with a guy! And Lassie, of all people!_"_

"You heard Vick though: no interoffice dating. Neither of them are the type to disobey a direct order." Gus ripped a paper packet of _Splenda _with his teeth, dipping a pinky in the sugar substitute and tasting it delicately. Shawn continued to glare at his partner incredulously, except maybe for a different reason this time.

"Are you kidding me, Gus? _Splenda_? When there's a whole tray of all natural sweet sugary goodness right there?" He swiped a good handful of sugar packets, ripping one open and promptly dumping the contents on his waiting tongue. "And anyways, it looks like Vick's on her last leg, look." He nodded at the scene happening in the office. Vick seemed to be talking rapidly, eyebrows raised, while Lassiter cut in once in a while with quick gestures and Juliet not really speaking much at all.

"Shawn, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to empty your pockets," Buzz cut in from behind them, nodding to the sugar packets bulging in his jeans. "Detective Lassiter really doesn't like it when people take more than they need, and I don't think he'd be any happier if he found out it was you."

"Aww come on Buzz, buddy," he wheedled half-heartedly, still obviously preoccupied. "I bet Psych is on a lot harder times than the department. Plus, we _live_ on this stuff, if we don't get nourishment.." He shrugged. "Bad guys get away."

"Well..." He shuffled uneasily, about to continue when the door burst open, depositing a flustered and ill-tempered Carlton. He looked around, eyes landing immediately on a chagrined Buzz and Psych.

"McNab!" He barked loudly, hand churning at his hair fervently. "Get me a coffee!"

The officer leapt to hand him coffee, but finding an already filled and fresh mug sitting there for him (Gus's, in fact), furtively switched it out into his mug and scrabbled frantically for a sugar that was not there. He resorted miserably to an artificial sweetener, cringing as he handed the man the mug. Gus reached forwards, a word of protest dying immediately in his throat at the wild glare that traveled from Guster to Shawn.

"Spencer!" he positively roared, clutching the coffee but not sipping yet. "_Spencer." _He repeated menacingly, punctuating the open-ended threat with a long glurgle of coffee. Gus and Buzz leaned backwards fearfully, but Shawn only watched, a small quizzical look on his face.

Carlton sputtered as soon as the liquid touched his tongue, spitting it remorselessly onto Shawn, who only stood there, frowning slightly, eyes closed.

"What the hell, McNab!" his hands balled into fists by his side as he slammed the remnants of coffee on the table, turning on his heel and storming down the hall, out of the station.

Gus hurriedly grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the brown stains on his friend's front hopelessly. Juliet exited the office a moment later, Karen right behind her, eyes wide as her gaze traveled from a close-to-tears Buzz, a whimpering Gus, to Shawn, a resigned, closed look on his face.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," she said under her breath, reaching to grab a napkin. Her hand was stopped by Shawn's, who met her dark blue eyes firmly.

"Why are you apologizing for what Lassiter did?" he prodded sharply. Juliet blinked confusedly, but she knew as much as he did at what he was really referring to.

"B-because he's my partner," she faltered, feeling oddly lightheaded as she realized what that statement could really implicate. "Shawn! You're not being fair-I told you-"

"Am I?" he stared, a hint of coldness in his demeanor as he pushed past Gus, Juliet, and an emerging Vick. He was about to be out of sight when he turned back around, dug around in his pockets, and tossed the sugar packets at Buzz.

"A gift for Lassie," he said, voice rough. He turned back on his heel and exited the building without another word.

Juliet watched him leave, frozen. Cold. She could barely make her legs move as she stumbled to her desk.

She retrieved her handbag and fled in the footsteps of two others.

* * *

"Carlton."

Her voice rapped sharply behind the front door. He swilled his glass of scotch contemplatively, downing it slowly, savoring the smooth, bitter taste and the gradual relief it brought with it.

"Carlton, I can _see_ you in there, open up."

He reached over with an unsteady hand to pour himself another glass.

"Carlton."

Her voice was cracking. She was desperate now.

"_Carlton,_ please."

She was _crying_.

He couldn't bear it anymore. The glass was placed back on the kitchen counter, and he made his way across the living room.

Opened the door.

She stood on the stoop, beautiful blue eyes gray and stormy, a sheepish smile on her face as tears made tracks down her cheeks.

"Now would you care to tell me what is wrong with you?" she murmured softly. He only stepped out of the way, proffering an arm towards the kitchen. She stepped in, brushing her hair back from her face as she sat down on a seat.

Carlton opened the cabinet, offering another tumbler in her direction, which she shook her head to. He put it gingerly back in its spot, turning to take another sip of alcohol.

Juliet watched him silently, leaning on an elbow, eyes clear of tears but quietly ruminative.

"Can you talk yet?" she spoke after a moment of silence. He set the scotch down again and glared placidly into her eyes, making her jerk back slightly in surprise.

"I don't want to talk." he rasped simply.

Juliet was taken slightly aback but did not relent.

"What you did at the station was not called for, Carlton."

"Don't speak to me like I'm a child." He stared at her, and she gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Carlton! Talk to me or I'm done!"

"With what?"

"With you! Police work...S-Santa Barbara!" she stammered angrily. "I can't work like this! I'll get a transfer-I'm sick of this, Carlton!"

"You heard Chief," he muttered, nonplussed. "She'd rather have us together and sane than apart."

"Yes but you seem quite uninterested." she fumed. "What the hell were you playing at? Spitting coffee on Shawn, yelling at everybody-"

"Do you still care about him?"

He met her gaze, eyes questioning, suddenly deathly serious.

"Well, he's my friend...Carlton, is this what it's all about?"

He looked down at the amber liquid on the table soundlessly. She gave a half amused, half annoyed _huff_.

"Carlton, I am only going to say this once. Shawn Spencer is no longer my boyfriend."

"Ugh. Don't use that word. It sounds ridiculously childish." He mumbled into his glass with another sip, as if this was not at all concerning him.

"And as much as I have been trying to deny it, I care about you." she drew in a deep breath. "A lot more than I should."

"Prove it."

He pushed the scotch away from him, across the tabletop to narrowly miss falling off the edge. Juliet stood, in a daze.

"What?"

"If you love me, prove it."

He could not say anything else in the slightly scathing tone he had been employing because O'Hara had launched herself at him, pressing her lips hungrily against Carlton's. Soon her hands began wandering places elsewhere, and as much Carlton would have loved to let the charade continue, he grabbed her hands gently, pushing her a step backwards.

Her beautiful face was flushed a shameless pink, eyes wide and betrayed.

"What are you doing?" Lassiter asked disbelievingly.

"I'm proving." her voice was rougher than usual, stepping back towards him with a fire in her stomach, but was stopped again. "Damnit, Lassiter, do you love me or not?"

Now it was his turn to gape.

"Y-yes," he murmured. "But O'Hara...!"

"Juliet." She corrected between her fervent administerings and scrabbling at his waist. He held her forearms tightly, effectively stopping her from proceeding.

"Juliet," he said, agitated. It was taking nearly all his self-control not to follow along with her X-rated plans. "It's too soon. What if you still have feelings for Spencer-"

"Don't you dare mention him now," she positively hissed, struggling in his iron grasp. "How many times do I have to say it? I love _you_.

That was enough for Lassiter. He released his hold on her and quickly melted into a night of bliss.

He didn't feel a drop of shame.

* * *

**Reviews please!**


	4. Closure

**This...isn't even in order anymore. Screw it, I needed it to get out of author's block.**

**Curl up somewhere comfy with a cup of tea, dears. This one's really long.**

**And I'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense. This series is more for myself to let out some random ideas...I was surprised to see anybody else read it and liked it. Thank you. :)**

**Takes place in the fuuuuutuuure. /zoom**

**Closure**

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course. Don't doubt me."

Carlton regarded his recently-wedded wife with obvious unease, shoes tapping on the hardwood floors.

"Juliet, you're pregnant."

"By two and a half months," She tied her hair up with a red bandanna, turning around to face Carlton with a grin.

"You're already showing!" he flapped his arms wildly, his usually unseen mother-hen side pecking with full force. Juliet rolled her eyes in disbelief, leaning down to kiss him quickly on the cheek.

"You're imagining it," she brushed it off easily, breezing out of the living room and into the kitchen. He followed, grabbing a couple of Diet Cokes, popping them open and passing one to her. She gathered the gardening tools from the floor, handing them to Carlton to juggle while she took a tray of young plants and marched resolutely out the door.

"I don't like it when you're pregnant," he grumped, setting the tools down on the ground outside and taking a slurp of soda. "You're volatile."

"_Volatile_?" she snorted, disbelieving as she set her own load down next to his. "Look, I had this idea for a while now, and anyways, the house can use some livening up. There's gonna be _kids_ living here, Carlton."

"_Our_ kids." He took her hands, which now had hints of gardening soil on their palms, pulling her into a long kiss.

"A kid, for all we know," she corrected him as they separated. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment.

"Kids. I want more than one." he said firmly. She smirked, turning around and kneeling down on the dirt to start digging.

"Don't decide yet," she huffed, starting to dig the spade into the ground and upturning the empty flowerbeds. "I'm the one who's carrying them for nine months."

He rolled up his shirtsleeves, grabbing his own shovel and getting to work alongside her.

"Well I'm the one who's paying for the sudden frozen yogurt splurge. Do you know how much Pinkberry costs?" he prodded jokingly.

"From what I've heard the cravings are only the tip of the iceberg," Juliet said, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear and getting a spot of mud on her cheek (which she did not bother to remove). "At least now I have excuses to be a bitch all the time."

"As opposed to once every month?"

"Shut up, Carlton." she snorted in spite of herself, gray-blue eyes set on the task at hand.

The next forty-five minutes was peaceful, the two working side by side. Sometimes they'd exchange small talk and banter, but mostly they'd just work away at the soil, transplanting the delicate baby's breath and azalea plants into the ground. The two detectives, facing complicated and often terrible things in their line of duty, found the simple, earthly task of gardening refreshing.

They finally stepped back to admire their work after some sweaty, back-breaking minutes. Carlton gazed at Juliet's pleased expression, and she met his gaze after a moment, eyes wide and happy.

"Nice work," she tossed back the rest of the Coke, leaning against the house's wall. He was absolutely sure that he hadn't been imagining the slight bulge in his wife's midriff now. Her face was flushed, hair stuck against her forehead with sweat, but the shining beam on her face was one of the most beautiful things the head detective had ever seen.

"I wish we could live like this forever," Carlton mumbled contentedly, wrapping an arm around Juliet. "Life would be so simple."

"Wouldn't you get bored?" she inquired.

"Of you? The children? Of course not," he stared at her incredulously.

"The center of your life was always work," she pointed out passively, turning to look him in the eyes.

"Because I was sick of love," he responded, leaning down to nuzzle her affectionately. "Forget that. You and the baby are the only thing now."

A slow smile spread across her face.

"But you wouldn't be able to just drop police work." it was a statement, not a question, and the detective nodded in agreement.

"You too though, huh?" He gathered the empty cans, taking her hand and leading her back indoors.

"Yeah."

* * *

"Okay, sweetie, I'm gonna have to ask you to step away and let me take care of this."

Juliet stared at her partner and husband in disbelief. Her gun was loaded and held steadily before her with years of experience.

"You cannot be serious," she hissed under her breath, shaking a strand of hair out of her eyes, arms unwavering as they pointed at the door before her. "Carlton, you know I can take care of myself, and I am not letting you go into that warehouse alone!"

"I need you to call for backup!" He pleaded in a low voice. She promptly pulled out her phone, called for a 133 and backup, and stuffed it back in a pocket within a minute. Her blue eyes met his with defiance and a glint of triumph.

"You know the procedure calls for equal treatment of pregnant officers," she whispered, pulling on her encyclopedic police regulations knowledge. "Or else it's deemed discriminatory."

He growled in floundering protest. "Please. I'm speaking as your husband and the father of your child."

"And I am speaking as your working partner, now kick down the damn door." Her tone was firm and serious as she glared at him. He stood stock still, eyes glinting with resolve as they stared each other down for a short moment. She finally snapped, grunting angrily as she held her gun to the side and beat the door roughly with her shoulder. It crashed impressively off its hinges and she scuttled forwards with ease, leaving Carlton to follow.

"Jesus, woman," he mumbled, half exasperatedly, half admiringly as he followed her silent footsteps around the stacked containers and crates.

The silence was deafening as it pressed down on Lassiter's ears. He brandished the sidearm with practiced ease as he took a different route along the right wall. Meanwhile, _O'Hara-_Lassiter was soon finding differing complications.

She made her way cautiously around the cargo in the half-dark, stray streams of light striking the floor with midday brilliance as she dodged around them. A sudden rustle made her whirl around, finger on the trigger.

Her sidearm was knocked sharply out of her grip by another firearm, clattering loudly along the floor to rest eight feet away at the base of a container. Juliet's heart quickened tenfold but she repressed her fear.

The perpetrator stood behind her, eyes wide with shock. He was only a teenager, maybe fourteen or fifteen, young and terrified.

"Miss," he mumbled, gun trembling in his grip. Its barrel faced the cement floor.

"Drop the gun," she ordered, wavering slightly when she realized that he was so young. "And put your hands where I can see them. It's going to be okay."

Carlton immediately heard the voices echo and followed the source, only to hear the clatter of the gun to the ground. He knew the sound when he heard it, and he broke out in a maddened sprint, heart skipping anxiously, gun at the ready as he tripped around the crates.

"Miss, it wasn't supposed to be you," he murmured breathily, hand twitching at his side.

"Drop the gun, we do not want to hurt you, if you stop we can talk." she spoke calmly hiding her unease.

"You have a baby. You weren't supposed to be the one," his voice was jagged, and his knuckles whitened against the gunmetal.

"Drop your gun." a rising panic started to overcome her. His hand started to raise slowly.

"Let me warn her, at least, Papa," he whimpered, seemingly to himself as the gun started to rise and stop, cold muzzle pressed against her temple at a point-blank range. "She's carrying a baby, Papa. Like Mum when-"

"Don't mention her!" he suddenly interrupted himself with a vicious snarl, and with widening eyes she realized the source of the boy's madness. "They are all devils, she a bitch with a child of Satan!"

Lassiter heard the conversation, muffling a strangled groan as he weaved through the mazes of objects between him and his wife. "Sonofa-"

"Papa-"

"If you are my son, you will lay her soul to Hell."

"Papa, there is a child-"

"Fuck the child!" he screamed at himself, eyes flashing, and Juliet instinctively flinched, unable to repress her trembling. Her eyes closed tightly for a moment, a short prayer, before opening them with newfound defiance to glare at the man/boy before her. If she was to die, she would stare them down until her last moments.

The father personality was still in charge, obviously, as he drew forwards until his nose brushed . She could feel the cold metal through her shirt, but she did not shiver. He reached out a hand, caressing her cheek, mocking a loving gesture as he spat in her face.

Her face stayed stonily still, blue eyes blazing.

"Disgusting creature," he murmured. "We were going to kill your _lover_, didn't you know? The arrogant fool. But now that _you_ are here...well." a dark smile split his face, gray eyes dead, the expression inexplicably eerie on the teen. "Here is a literal show of the phrase. Kill two birds with one stone. Two devils with one bullet."

Carlton had just managed to follow the voices until he backed up in the shadow of a pile of crates. He peered around the corner and a burst of rage ran through his veins at the sight of the boy snarling and pressing the gun to her chest. He braced himself against the containers, kicking off with the heels of his foot and flying at the attacker.

One shot rang out into the musty air; the boy's. It went wide but spat down her upper left arm making her gasp with pain. She ignored the blood starting to dampen her sleeve as she helped keep the perp slammed to the floor.

The cuffs were soon slapped on the kid and they hauled him out of the building, hissing and twisting in Carlton's iron grip, but to no avail. It had taken nearly all of the head detective's willpower not to have simply shot him in the head. But he knew what Juliet would have felt if it had happened.

_Only a boy__._ He pushed him roughly against the outside wall of the warehouse, ignoring the angry profanities spitting from the criminal's lips. _She'd beat herself up for it._

_I'd beat myself up for it._

_Only a kid._

_A kid._

He whirled around to face a fatigued Juliet limping after them, eyes widening in shock at the blood dripping from her wound.

"Juliet!" he nearly screamed. She held up a hand, shaking her head in reassurance.

"Just a flesh wound," she gasped a lightheadedly, trying to staunch the small flow with a crimson palm. "Get me a water, Carlton. Call for paramedics." She knew he wouldn't be able to think straight in this situation.

"Where are they, dammit!" he raged in blinded terror as he dashed to the squad car and grabbed a bottle of water, hands trembling as he uncapped it for her and held it out. She took it, gulping down a fourth of the bottle before leaning back against the wall with a soft groan as he whipped out a phone and screamed for paramedics.

"They're coming, they're coming," he hopped on one foot to the other, mumbling mostly to himself. The sirens of police cars started to split the night, and a few skidded around the corner and stopped before them. The detective's eyes slid over the group.

"We need paramedics!" he shouted desperately. The van pulled in last, the occupants spilling out to swarm around the wounded cop and lift her onto a gurney. Carlton's face whitened in horror.

"She needs a _gurney_?" he sputtered in disbelief. "Juliet, Juliet, stay with us-"

"Lassiter."

"Chief!" he screamed into his senior officer's face, though Karen Vick managed to keep the cringe from her face. She stood firmly between him and the van.

"Carlton, we need your statement," she started, obviously pained at having to be so cruel. "O'Hara is going to be fine-"

"Let me go to her!" he demanded, knocking the Chief of Police back with a flailing hand. She barely managed to stop herself from falling, and a few officers closed in automatically, holding him firmly by the forearms.

"Let him go." she sighed. They regarded her uneasily but released their grips. He burst forwards, leaping into the back of the ambulance before it slammed shut and started to move.

Juliet's eyebrows were high on her forehead as she regarded a panting Carlton leaning over her in the cramped vehicle quarters. His head brushed the ceiling, and his bluer-than-blue eyes met her's.

"Carlton, you needed to give your statement-"

"You're in the back of an ambulance for God's sake!" he sputtered. First Vick, now her? Did _anybody_ realize the urgency of the situation?

"The only reason they're making such a fuss is because I'm pregnant," she assured him, about to reach forwards and take his hand, but stopped when she saw the blood still on her fingers. Paramedics had wound a length of makeshift bandages around her arm, but he could see a spot of red on them.

"For a good reason," he muttered gruffly, realizing his foolishness. "You lost a lot of blood."

"Not too much," a medic put in from her other side. "But she may need a transfusion, just to be safe. Her child could be in moderate danger."

"The bullet-"

"In one way and out the other," she smiled painfully, gasping involuntarily as the vehicle jolted over a bump in the road. A pang of pity and sadness hit him, and he reached down to brush her cheek with a kiss. "J-just nicked me anyways...I had a vest, Carlton."

"Oh god, Juliet," he whispered softly as the car sped along, the sirens whistling in the background. "You could have died. Again. Yang, the plane, now this."

"You were the intended target," she murmured back, unsure whether if it was comforting or not. "All in the line of duty."

"Damn it," his hands balled into fists, and an overwhelming urge to shoot something came over him. "Why _doesn't_ it ever end up being me?"

"Don't say that," she shushed him sharply, gray-blue eyes meeting his. "Don't you ever say that."

There was a long moment of silence.

"You heard what the boy said, didn't you?" she said softly. The vehicle started to slow and take a sharp turn, the sirens switching off. The medics got to their feet, bowed over under the low ceiling. Carlton found her hand, squeezing it, not caring if his own were getting dirty.

"He didn't want to kill you," he rasped, words suddenly slow and impossible to his tongue. Skilled hands unlocked the wheels of the gurney and Carlton tripped to follow the bed rolling out of the back of the car, fingers still entwined with hers as they began into the hospital and down the hall.

"You did it right," she said, fingers starting to slip from his grasp as the swinging double doors drew closer. "You did right, Carlton."

The gurney slammed through the doors, leaving Carlton standing before them, catching flashes of blonde hair and white bandages between the swinging flaps until they slowed to a stop.

He stared down at his hands, horrified, his own wife's blood staining it red, and he suppressed a moan as he bolted for the nearest sink to scrub it off along with two layers of his skin in his own desperation.

* * *

"We heard about Jules, came as fast as we could." Shawn blurted, Henry Spencer at his side. Gus appeared a few moments afterwards, wheezing helplessly and clutching his side, his signature whimper-cry on his face.

"Man up, Gus, this is a place full of dying people-"

"Shut it, Spencer," Lassiter snapped, disguising his anxiety with irritation. Shawn silently noted the aggravated pinked skin on the man's palms and fingers, most likely from scrubbing, judging by the direction of the marks. Needless to say, it was very obvious that the head detective of the SBPD and future father was not okay.

The Chief had arrived a few minutes before the three, a deepened frown on her face.

"Calm yourselves, all of you," Karen cut in, trying to use her usual sympathy/disapproval tones. "It was only a minor injury, Detective O'Hara is going to be okay."

"Carlton Lassiter?" A doctor stood at the door to the room, and he leaped out of his seat, barreling past other occupants to meet the white-coated man.

"Y-yes, that's me," he gasped, the rest of the motley group following right on his heels. The professional raised an eyebrow at the wide-eyed appeals from the anxious, rather random group of people, but nodded shortly and gestured for them to follow.

"Your wife is doing fine. She got a blood transfusion, however, we needed a little more than expected," he said gravely. Carlton stumbled to catch up, stomach dropping.

"W-why?" his voice barely escaped his lips. They reached the door, the doctor's hand resting on the handle. A sudden gentle smile split his face as he began pushing the door open.

"Because she is expecting twins. Congratulations."

Carlton stumbled over the linoleum tiles, a man in a daze as he moved slowly towards the blonde-haired woman seated in the hospital bed. A tired smile was on her face as he found her hands and held them tightly.

"We have to arrest that doctor, he nearly gave me a heart attack," the first words blurted from his lips was far from what he had been planning. His cheeks flushed when he realized what he had said, but she only snorted, grinning widely.

"Well I'm sure he'd revive you if he did," she prodded lightly, gazing into his eyes. He broke into a giddy smile as he hopped up and down on the balls of his feet. He whirled around to face the rest of the crew, huddled towards the back of the room a bit uncertainly, afraid to intrude on the personal moment. Shawn was the first to speak, as always.

"C_ooonngrats!" _he sang, grinning. Carlton was in too much of an elated mood to notice anything, but a calmer Juliet noticed the glint of conflicting emotion in his hazel eyes. Her own darkened slightly in concern, but she did not speak up.

"Congratulations, O'Hara," Chief drew forwards, smiling warmly. Gus seemed a lot more collected, though a sheen of sympathy-sweat still shone on his dark forehead. Juliet smiled amusedly as she patted her good friend's shoulder in reassurance. McNab waved a timid wave and was greeted by a happy nod.

"Two kids, huh?" Henry leaned against the near wall, and she beamed up at all the visitors, an overwhelming rush of happiness coming over her as all the closest people in her life were huddled by her side.

Carlton was only gazing fixedly at Juliet, a wide, rather dumbfounded grin plastered on his face. Shawn came up last to stand at her bedside, taking her hand and kissing in with the grandeur of a medieval knight. What concerned her, however, was the reluctant tenderness of the action. Her eyes glanced back at her husband for a moment, but he seemed to have not noticed.

"Carlton," she spoke gently, interrupted momentarily when he swooped down to kiss her lips."C-Carlton, why don't you go get us a coffee? It's four in the morning."

"Ooh, I could use some coffee," Chief sighed in relief, and Henry and Buzz nodded in agreement as the three tromped out of the ER room. Gus and Shawn remained in the room.

"Aren't you coming?" Gus questioned his friend, who shook his head.

"Had a Five-Hour-er on the way here," he nodded curtly. His friend frowned slightly but his cravings overrode the emotion as he trotted out of the room behind the departing entourage.

"Shawn," she spoke flatly as the two were left alone. "Don't do this. Not now. You moped during the wedding, and as selfish as it may sound, I am _not_ going to let you ruin this for all of us."

"No, it's me that's being selfish," he exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "So idiotically selfish. I'm sorry. It's just...I imagined us like this. I imagined that I would be the one wh-who was..." he trailed off helplessly.

"Listen to me," she sighed. He looked up at her eyes. "Your girl is waiting for you out there. But you won't find her if you walk around thinking about the last one."

"Y-you," he corrected, stammering.

"Yes," she nodded. "And, Shawn?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still one of my closest friends, and I am so, _so_ glad that we were able to keep that."

She smiled an honest, trusting smile, which would have once been completely innocent, charmingly naaive. But eight years of seeing the worst of psychos and criminals had changed the woman until the smile had an underlying pained layer. The 'psychic' finally nodded, smiling softly, if wholeheartedly, sighing.

"So let me show them the wonders of pineapple, okay?" he prodded. "Puree isn't the best form of the golden fruit, but it's a start."

"Decaf!" Carlton sang loudly, making the two start in surprise. He turned the corner into the room, clutching two Styrofoam cups and a paper bag as he essentially danced over. He handed one cup graciously to Juliet and gulped down a few mouthfuls from his own with no abandon. The others followed moments later, Henry shaking his head and Karen's face rather pink, though smiling.

"Detective, I don't think people appreciate singing in the halls," Karen advised, but she was not noticed.

"Spencer!" he barked, throwing something from the bag at Shawn, who caught it in the nick of time. "A pineapple danish! And a croissant for you, m'lady." He proffered the pastry to the bedridden woman, who laughed and accepted it. "Ooh, I don't know why I'm feeling so..."

"Elated?"

"Charitable?"

"Not-like-a-squirrel-assassin slash head detective Carlton Lassiter?"

Juliet, Gus, and Shawn chipped in at the same time, but he only shot a mildly irritated glare at the latter, which was quite an improvement from the usual.

"Sure," he mumbled a bit gruffly. He took out a bear paw from the bag and took an indulgent bite. "So do you know when you're coming home?" He sat on the edge of the bed. There weren't half as many chairs as the occupants wished; Carlton by her side, Henry and Gus in chairs, Vick by the beeping monitors, and Shawn leaning against a near wall. They remained anyways.

"Nope," she muttered, a bit irritably. "Didn't bother to tell me anything but that I now have to run around with two bowling balls in me and not just one."

"We apologize," a nurse strode quickly into the room, a clipboard in her hand as the group parted to let her pass. She began a rapid inspection of the screens, scribbling some words on the paper and replacing the saline hanging on the hook beside her. Her cheeks pinked slightly at being caught complaining, but the embarrassment was soon replaced by pain when the nurse leaned over and gently prodded the bandages. She hissed softly between her teeth, her cheeks white. Carlton stiffened slightly from where he now stood but said nothing.

"You'll be staying overnight for observation," the nurse finally answered their question. "But it is almost certain that there'll be no problems." She shot a well-practiced, comforting smile at her spouse, and then rather reluctantly to the rest of the occupants.

"Thank you," Juliet said, sitting back as a wave of fatigue overcame her and made her yawn widely.

"Everybody out!" Carlton barked, noticing her movements and starting to usher a protesting gaggle of visitors out the door. "She needs rest."

Scattered cries of "Wait!", "What, already?", "Bye Jules,", "Well wishes, O'Hara,", and "Lassiter, you're standing on my foot!" rang out before the door shut abruptly on their voices. Shawn, Gus waved brightly from the window and Juliet giggled, waving back before they were promptly swept away by Karen and Henry. Carlton turned to face a bright-eyed Juliet, smiling contentedly as she gazed up at the ceiling.

"Those guys," he mumbled in the start of his usual tones, though a slight grin was on his own face.

"Shawn was getting all mopey again," she sighed. Carlton rolled his eyes, sipping from his mug.

"Typical," he said lowly. "But I swear, if he lays a wrong finger on you-"

"He is Shawn, Carlton," she sighed. "But I think he's finally over it. I promised he'd get to feed the babies their first pineapple."

"They're not supposed to eat it until at least 6 months," Carlton put in. "It was thought to be one year, but recently it's been deducted to less." He grinned proudly for a moment, ignoring her pointed snicker.

"Really?" she murmured, reaching up to take his hand and pull him down to her bedside. "Well, Mr. Know-Everything-Dad-"

"Papa."

"Hm?"

"My new title is Head Detective Papa Carlton Lassiter." he corrected meticulously, winking. She rolled her eyes at the feeble joke but couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"I can't wait until we can find out their genders," she said, sighing wistfully. "Name ideas?"

"Carlton Jr."

"You cannot be serious..."

* * *

**Had to break it off eventually. Ended up super long, and I don't know if it even makes sense anymore. Pointless fluff, I warned you!**

**And the reason for the conversation between Jules and Shawn was just because I felt that many Lassiet fics made Shawn into a kind of villain. I'm sure that he would be very, very jealous, but I think he cares too much for his friends and isn't dumb enough to pull something as horrible as some pieces paint him as.**

**Plus, I really wanna see some cute Uncle Shawn times. ;)**

**Reviews much appreciated. :)**


	5. Raspberries and Silk

**This is a bit of pre-Lassiet cuteness mmkay? Takes place after Juliet comes back from City Hall and the Yin incident. Read on!**

* * *

It started with her hair.

"You...smell different."

"What?"

Her wide blue eyes turned to his in bleary puzzlement. The wind whipped loudly through the car as they rounded a ramp and entered the freeway, and the pop radio station was playing in undertones, but Carlton was quite sure that she had heard his inadvertent blurb. She pulled the windows all the way up and turned the volume knob down.

"Sorry?" she looked at him oddly, and the detective could feel his cheeks reddening slightly.

"You..." he winced. "You don't smell like peaches anymore." his voice ended at an awkward note, and his hands clenched the wheel until his knuckles went white. He couldn't believe his own stupidity.

Juliet O'Hara, being one of Santa Barbara's finest homicide detectives, easily picked up the clues of embarrassment and chagrin. She couldn't keep the grin off her face as she recalled the last time peaches had come up in a conversation. At least now he admitted that he had been talking about her conditioner rather than stopping by a fruit sale.

"No," she said, resting her elbow on the windowledge and her chin on her palm. "I changed it."

"Why?" For the second time he spoke before thinking, and he barely resisted the urge to slam his head into the horn.

"B-because," she said unevenly, caught off guard. Did he really care that much about how she _smelled_? She found herself wondering whether if she should revert back to the previous hair product. "My hair's dyed brown now."

"What?!" His light blue eyes darted over to his passenger, and his mouth dropped open. Indeed it was. It was more than a few shades lower in the spectrum than her usual bright, honey-blonde tones. He glanced back and forth from the road and her hair, sputtering in disbelief. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed when he'd picked her up from her house. Her car had apparently broken down, and she had called him at seven o-clock, when she knew that he would be driving to the station (because she had memorized his daily schedules by now, obviously, they'd been partners for years now... right?) He put it to fatigue from last night, but he knew it was just more than that. (A memory of a certain _blonde-haired_ detective preforming a rather skilled move of martial arts the night before still lingered)

"Why?" he asked again, but this time he felt he had a good reason to be asking. A small chuckle escaped her lips this time.

"Because," she started. "I felt I...needed a change," Her eyes drifted down to her hands curled in her lap. "After all that."

He nodded silently in understanding, feeling the conversation had taken a more serious path now. He elected to stay quiet, and was rather surprised when she spoke up again, her tone a bit playful now.

"So you, um, prefer peaches?" she bit her lip, suddenly shy as she stared fixedly down at her lap. He could feel himself raising his eyebrows in surprise but managed to speak.

"Over what?"

"I-it's raspberry now," she breathed, and they sat in awkward silence until she looked up and met his affectionate gaze. A breathless giggle wheezed out of her lungs and he joined in with a silent grin.

"I'm not to judge, am I?" he said, drumming his fingers on the wheel to the bass of the song that just came on.

"Why not?" She stared at the side of his face with her gray-blue eyes, and he shrugged in what he had hoped looked nonchalant.

"Never mind," he responded. They took the exit not long after and drove into the parking lot of the station.

"And Juliet?"

She glanced upwards, startled by his unusual use of her first name.

"I think you still smell marvelous."

And the next day, when the little green Bug was still in repair and he drove by to pick her up, the same scent of silk and raspberries wafted around the female detective like her own happy aura. And as he listened to her half-hearted mumbling and humming to the 80's station turned up high (it was her turn to choose the radio station), he decided that he really did like raspberries.

(And to drop by the fruit stands and pick up a basket or two.)

* * *

**Reviews?**


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